


Peace treaty

by WritingforTheAvengers



Category: Avengers, Black Panther - Fandom, MCU, Marvel, T'Challa - Fandom
Genre: Black Panther i am so ready, F/M, I suck at titles, i suck at summaries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 03:09:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12379677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingforTheAvengers/pseuds/WritingforTheAvengers
Summary: Your kingdom and Wakanda have been enemies for a very long time, leading to a war and a subsequent peace treaty. Unfortunately, as most things in life, this also has an expiration date and it’s in King T’Challa’s hands, and your hands, to stop what seems to be an inevitable war.





	Peace treaty

King T’Challa’s invitation was something you expected from a very long time ago, but you never thought it would become true; the peace treaties between your country and his were just a year away from expiring. Long story short, you were running out of time to make peace for good or definitely go to war with the Wakandian king and his people. You were ready for the fight, but you didn’t want to include your people there; they didn’t deserve and neither did his people. War wasn’t your thing and your late father was never too keen on accepting it.

For a few weeks you decided to put him off, with the excuse that you were busy with your own country, but truth being told, you didn’t know T’Challa, and you found it odd to decide on such important matters with a stranger. Even your maids had more knowledge about you and the subject.

But as the clock was not slowing down, you had no other option but to finally set the date and place of your “business” meeting; a restaurant in a neutral country suited you both perfectly. He was terrible at small talk and you weren’t very keen on finding out about his life either; you knew the important things: he was the son of King T’Chaka and that meant he was the king. 

This was business and you didn’t want to get involved with him; you really didn’t need to anyway. When he put the question into words you had to stop and rewind those seconds in your mind. You would’ve spat your drink all over his face if it wasn’t because you were way more collected than that.

“So, you’re saying we should be friends?” You asked in a flat voice, holding tightly your glass of Mezcal. It was not like you didn’t believe in his words, but they surely came as a surprise; especially after everything that happened between his father and yours, and your awful excuses. “Forget about our fathers’ quarrel and start a new relationship?”

Your father and King T’Chaka never got along, which lead to war and to peace treaties rather often. Both kings were quite hotheaded and fortunately that trait wasn’t something they transmitted to the heirs: you and the new king, King T’Challa.

Your nation was a technologically advanced society and it was as hidden and secret as Wakanda used to be; it had a great economy based on scientific and medical development which lead to being a completely self-sufficient country, but it was about time the new heirs to the throne made peace with each other. Wakanda was rich in both culture and vibranium and your people could surely use both.

“I don’t know if friends is the correct term for what I would like,” he doubted, “but we should re-write the treaty; I was informed it ended in a year—”

“That means we’re running very late, T’Challa,” you sighed in exhaustion, leaning your back against the chair’s “and we must make up our minds now, or in a short time at the very most, or we’ll have to go to war,” you took the glass to your lips and had a small sip from it.

“What does that mean?” He furrowed his eyebrows. “We have to?”

“Haven’t you read the treaty?” You rose your voice. “Oh heavens, I’m dealing with an amateur,” you rolled your eyes, “the document is quite explicit, T’Challa,” you sighed heavily trying to get yourself together and not punch him in the face, “we have a year, this year, to make peace, but if that doesn’t come, then both our nations will go to war and then we’ll have to sign yet another document god knows when,” you stated. “Do you want that?”

“Certainly not,” T’Challa breathily laughed, “and I certainly don’t want you in command of an army; you seem quite lethal,” he smiled and asked for another drink. “So, may I assume we’re on the same page about peace?”

“Yes, we are,” you nodded and ordered some more Mezcal which made you look and seem much more relaxed. “What about commerce?”

“Sounds interesting,” he agreed, “I believe we can offer each other a lot of things,” he smiled again, as if it meant the start of peace. “When can we announce these diplomatic advances?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “but would you mind not having the UN invading our treaties? I just can’t bear the thought of having a bunch of ridiculous men prying around my country and trying to take over it,” you pursed your lips. “No thank you,” you sighed.

“We’re on the same page on that too,” he chuckled. He rose his glass, proposing a toast. “To peace in our time,” he said.

“To peace in our time,” you smiled and gently clacked your glass with his.


End file.
